


Miller, Robin, Reeve

by Feekins



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Apartment-Era, Can Be Read As Pre-Slash or Ambiguous Relationship, Content So Sweet It Will Give You Cavities And Make You Cry Out Of Happiness, M/M, Nygmobblepot Week 2018, Post 2x09, References to 14th-Century English Texts, Semi-Graphic Description of Healing Wounds, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 21:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14029104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feekins/pseuds/Feekins
Summary: When Ed wakes up unusually early, he doesn't expect Oswald to be awake, too. It’s welcome company, though, their mutual not-quite-consciousness in the soft stillness of pre-dawn.





	Miller, Robin, Reeve

It's not even light out when Ed awakes. He doesn't bother to check the time - it's too much effort, takes more motivation than he can either muster or spare right now. Besides, he recalls, he has today off. Who cares whether he sleeps in or wakes up heinously early? Heck, Ed could stay in bed all day and no one would care.

 _No one would care_.

This isn't a melancholy or lonely thought, but rather one that's quite comforting. Ed isn't sure why. He just knows it _is_.

Brain full of sleepy cobwebs, Ed blinks blearily up at the mottled gray popcorn ceiling. As he does so, he feels errant bits of grit sticking to his lashes here and there. It's not a very pleasant sensation. Still, Ed doesn't stir, doesn't even think about wiping the sleep from his eyes. _Whatever_. He's much too relaxed, too blissfully at ease, and he has every intention of savoring this rare peace.

The cogs in Ed's brain softly creak and groan into motion. Before long, his thoughts will race, observing and remembering and making connections at a million miles a second, as per usual. For now, though, he's content to lazily search the patterns in the ceiling for hidden shapes. It doesn't matter that he's without his glasses. The fact that everything's out of focus just makes Ed's little search that much more interesting. The first thing he picks out is half a puzzle piece. It turns into a nose above pouting lips and a pointy chin. When he squints, he's sure he can just barely make out prominent cheekbones, too. Taken altogether, it looks like an old crone in profile, or maybe a jester.

Who knew part of a medieval tapestry was trapped in the ceiling of an apartment in the middle of Gotham? Ed did, of course. It's been there since before he moved in - and it's _all his_.

With a goofy little smile, Ed lets his eyes wander again, seeking out another face he remembers always finding up and to the right of the jester-crone. This one looks younger, stranger...perhaps a bit tipsy, too. It's funny how those details alone evoke certain memories. At once, Ed's brought back to his high school days - to cinderblock classrooms, desks with built-in cubbies, and old, open textbooks. The one for World Literature had been quite thick. Not many of the stories within had appealed to Ed's teenage self. Even so, there's one in particular that now comes to mind: _The Canterbury Tales_ by Geoffrey Chaucer.

A group of people were making some sort of medieval pilgrimage. To pass the time, they took turns telling stories. Chaucer had never gotten around to writing all of them - and Ed's class had only read two or three. Oh, but who were all the pilgrims, again? There was the Knight, the Wife of Bath, the Pardoner, the Summoner, the Physician, the Squire, the Reeve...several others he can't remember, and the Miller.

A chuckle bubbles up Ed's throat. By complete coincidence, that unusual face he's gazing up at is the spitting image of how he'd imagined the Miller to look. Yes, Ed remembers now. Chaucer described this man as short, strong, rough, and wicked. Named Robin, right? Yes, Robin. True to his boisterous character, when it was his turn to share, Robin prefaced his story saying it would involve a carpenter being duped. Right away, the Reeve objected, as _he_ was once a carpenter! Still, Robin went on to tell his story, and it so angered the Reeve that he later told an insulting story about a thieving, conniving miller as revenge.

Another chuckle ripples softly through the dim morning stillness. _The Canterbury Tales_ hadn't been one of Ed's favorites, but he does recall enjoying the characters' banter - especially between Robin and the Reeve.

Come to think of it, the Reeve's name had been mentioned, too. The Miller was Robin, and the Reeve was...? Ed's sure it started with an O...

"Pray tell _why_ you're so cheerful at this godforsaken hour?"

Too relaxed to startle, Ed rolls his head to the right and toward the source of the hoarse, half-mumbled speech. It's close enough to him that even without his glasses, he's able to make out several familiar features in the ambient light cast by the neon sign outside. A little higher up toward the headboard than him, there's that short, tousled hair and that distinctly-shaped nose.....and stormy, piercing eyes, which are currently boring two resentful little holes into Ed's skull.

For some reason, Ed can't help but smile a little wider.

"On second thought, I think I'd rather _not_ know," Oswald amends, nose wrinkling. He's slumped, curled over half-on his front and half-on his left side. It all makes him look small and...kind of cute, to be honest.

 _Damn_ , but Ed's in a wonderful mood.

"G'morning to you, too, Mr. Penguin."

Oswald, not so much. He gives a huff - and though Oswald's morning breath curls in Ed's nostrils, Ed finds himself chuckling again. He doesn't know why. In response, those annoyed little eyes before Ed narrow further, blinking slowly, sleepily as their owner issues his tart reply: " _Please_. There isn't anything good about today."

Of course Ed begs to differ - not that he says this. Instead, he opts for, "But you slept well, right?"

"Until about...half an hour ago. You elbowed me in the face." The ire lurking in the shadows of Oswald's tone gives his words a bit of an edge, though it's dulled by his exhaustion.

Guilt fades Ed's smile like a hot shower's steam blurs a mirror.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"You should be." This comes out softer, indignant but without any real venom. Oswald's still regarding Ed with a slight scowl, though - not that Ed blames him. While Oswald's emotional and mental state have improved since his first few nights under Ed's care, his body will take more time to fully recover. To that end, he needs all the rest he can get, meaning as few rude awakenings as possible.

"You'd think I'd've woken myself up then," Ed thinks aloud, his words a little sleep-slurred, "but I guess I slept pretty soundly."

"Mm. Like a rock with... _unreasonably_ long limbs. And sharp elbows."

"Did I hurt you?"

There's a soft rustle as Oswald shakes his head no - for as he does so, he pulls a fistful of blankets up closer to his face. It hides his mouth. Brow still furrowed, Oswald lets his eyes slip shut and breathes deeply. Silence. Then, he speaks up again, voice muffled, now just sounding tired and...oddly resigned, but not in a way that's unhappy.

"Well. I suppose I'm lucky."

"Yeah? How so?"

"You may sleep like a rock...but at least you don't hit like one."

Under any other circumstances, Ed would probably take that as an insult - but right now, from Oswald, it feels like a compliment. So, Ed's smile returns, stretches across his face and reaches his eyes.

Oswald truly is something else.

A siren wails to life somewhere in the distance. Despite this, the man lying beside Ed is starting to look so incredibly peaceful. With every passing second, the lines across Oswald's forehead soften little by little. All of his features relax. The way he's drifting off now, Ed wonders just how Oswald managed to stay awake so long after Ed accidentally elbowed him. Was it the power of spite, or something else? In any case, Ed hopes that now, Oswald too can sleep like a rock.

_A rock..._

Sure, some riddles come to mind, but that's not why Ed's smile turns goofy.

"Hey. Did you know penguins don't actually look for perfect pebbles to court potential mates with?" So much for letting his new friend-turned-bedmate sleep.

Scowling again, Oswald gives a long-suffering sigh and cracks his eyes open.

"No, I did not."

"Although," Ed continues, yawning around his words, "there _are_ several species that... They build circular nests out of stones they collect. But they don't... _propose_ with them. They're _animals_."

"Hm. Interesting." Needless to say, Oswald does _not_ sound impressed. A beat, and then he posits, the faintest note of accusation to his tone, "Did _you_ know your arms are over your head?"

Smile fading a little, caught off-guard by Oswald's question, Ed turns his head up to check, and sure enough...

"...huh. So they are."

"With your wrists crossed."

"Yup."

Another rustle as Oswald shakes his head. His hand gripping the blankets moves, pulls up under his pillow, and now Ed can see Oswald's whole face again. The way he regards Ed now, eyebrows raised, some of his annoyance turned to faint shadows of amusement... It's an expression Ed hopes he remembers when he's more awake.

"That's pretty strange, friend."

Ed shrugs good-naturedly, "Well, Mr. Penguin, that's just how I sleep sometimes." With that, he stretches, long and full-bodied and oh so satisfying. As he does so, he feels the mattress shift slightly as Oswald rearranges himself. Then, there comes a hissing breath drawn in between gritted teeth.

It goes without saying that Ed releases his stretch a bit earlier than originally planned.

"What's wrong?" The words leave Ed's mouth automatically. As he speaks, he brings his arms down and shuffles onto his side to fully face Oswald, his eyes searching, trying to assess the other man's condition in the near-darkness. It's easier now, what with Oswald curled on his left side and, incidentally, face-to-face with Ed.

"Fine! I'm fine," Oswald insists, his words contradicting his grimace and the way his left hand hovers, just barely resisting the urge to grasp at his injured right shoulder. "Just...strained it a little."

The gunshot wound there is in better shape than it was when Ed first brought Oswald back to his apartment. Ed knows this because he cleaned and re-bandaged it just last night. Careful stitching held the edges of the wound together nicely. It still wept plasma, and the surrounding skin was still inflamed, but Ed's diligent treatment seemed to be keeping the infection at bay. All things considered, surely it would take more than a little bump or pull to cause serious damage to the healing wound.

But right now, Ed isn't taking any chances.

A few things happen at once. Concerned, Ed pulls the blankets down and away from Oswald's torso. Oswald raises a defensive hand and starts to recoil, his expression equal parts bewildered and wary. Both men simultaneously speak.

"Here, let me-!"

"What're you-?"

It's the somewhat guarded way Oswald looks at Ed that makes him pause. Right, better _not_ to startle Oswald when he's hurting and feeling so obviously vulnerable. After all, even without sedatives at his disposal, Ed's sure _neither_ of them wants a repeat of the first time Oswald woke up here. So, Ed draws his hand back a little, showing Oswald his open, empty palm. When at last he speaks, his voice is soft and apologetic: "Sorry - I just want to make sure you aren't bleeding again. Okay?"

The last word there isn't placating so much as it is requesting permission. Oswald seems to understand this, for after another moment or so, he releases a breath and nods. Only then does Ed reach out again, his movements slow but deliberate.

The borrowed nightshirt is far too large on Oswald. At least this makes it easy for Ed to tug the collar aside, fully exposing Oswald's shoulder. From there, Ed reaches around, carefully feels for the thick patch of gauze he knows rests over the wound. He watches Oswald's face for any signs of pain all the while. For some reason, Oswald doesn't look Ed in the eyes. Funny, that.

"...Good. Your bandages are dry." With a sigh of relief, Ed withdraws his hand. Oswald immediately preoccupies himself pulling his collar back into place, mumbling a thanks Ed almost doesn't catch. Something about Oswald's demeanor is infectious. It isn't long before Ed finds himself pulling the blankets back up and sheepishly helping Oswald settle down.

Down on the street, some large vehicle slows to a stop, its breaks groaning loudly. Meanwhile, the distance between Ed and Oswald on that queen-sized bed shrinks. Ed pretends not to notice. Still, he can feel Oswald's breath furling against his clavicle. It's almost as warm as Oswald's radiant body heat.

And despite Ed's persisting concern for the man curled up beside him, he finds himself starting to smile again.

"...accident aside, how's your pain?"

"Not good. But not wholly intolerable," Oswald whispers back.

"Is it bad enough to make you nauseous?"

"No? But I think I'd prefer a later breakfast. Or lunch...if I manage to fall asleep again."

"Mm." Ed doubts he himself will anytime soon. That's the thing about mini-crises like the one they just had - they tend to wake you up no matter _how_ early it is. Thank goodness theirs blew over quickly. "You know, I could make you ginger tea...if you think your stomach's upset or anything. That's helped, right?"

"Mm." Maybe it's his imagination, but Ed could swear he hears a slight smile in Oswald's answer: "For now, I think I just want to be still for a while."

"Okay."

A hushed stillness falls over the room like a thick down comforter. All Ed can hear are his own breaths intermingled with Oswald's. He doesn't know how much time passes before his bedmate's breathing evens out. All Ed knows is that for some reason, this here feels _right_.

The last thing Ed notices before he too drifts off is that one of those faces in the ceiling seems to be smiling. It's the one up and to the right that looks like the Miller named Robin, sworn enemy of the Reeve.

**Author's Note:**

> Uuuuugh, but I love writing about private little moments like this! I originally started it last May, but then lost the inspiration to finish it. Fortunately, I've since finished writing my practicum paper and graduated with my MA. That's helped. Also, recent episodes have me full of fic ideas again, so I hope to post more soon!
> 
> If you have the time, though, could you do me a favor and let me know what you think of this piece, please? Your feedback helps me improve, and encourages me to put more of my works out there. Seriously - if there's one thing I love more than bringing the stories in my head to life, it's finding out someone else has connected with them. So don't be shy! Feel free to flail at me in the comments or @ me on tumblr (I'm Feekins on there as well)!
> 
> In any case, thank you so much for reading, and take care, okay?


End file.
